Dark Lullaby by Polly Ho-Yen (the gingerbread man read aloud TXT) 📗

it instantly. Instead, I crawl across the back seat. I press my feet against the car door because there isn’t room to stretch out my legs properly and, uncomfortable as it sounds, I fall asleep quickly.

I don’t dream. Or I forget my dreams.

I have no way of setting an alarm. I hope that my body will rest for only as long as it needs and that I will wake soon. I do not want to waste time here. It is a race, I feel it as one, but if I have an accident when I am driving, I might never get to the end.

My mind has made me sleep. Shut me down, closed me for business. This way, I don’t have to think of Thomas. I don’t linger through the hours of the day imagining what he’s doing, now that he’s found me gone. I don’t imagine his anxiety growing when I do not return. I do not think about him at lunchtime, pacing the apartment, wondering if he should go out, whether it’s the right thing to do because then I might come back to no one there.

Thomas will search for a note, some word of what I am doing. He will re-examine how I acted yesterday: was there anything particularly out of the ordinary about me the night before, something that he can pin this on? But he didn’t see the headlines on the Spheres at the charging station; he’s oblivious to what I know.

THEN

Marie turned to me, gripping my arm so tightly I could feel my arteries throb.

I heard her words again: ‘What do I do, Kit?’

I froze, panicked; I didn’t have an answer, couldn’t conjure a plan.

Marie rose unsteadily to answer the door.

‘Are you Marie Rachel Trevers, mother of Tia Lola Trevers-White?’ said a female voice. It wavered slightly, as though unused to speaking in this manner.

I wanted to do something, anything that I could, much in the same way as I had first reached out to Marie and Leo, and so I slid out of my chair down to the floor so I was beside Tia. She was steadily examining the toy sheep that dangled over her. Then I shouted in a loud voice to Marie, ‘Tia’s fine, Marie. I’m watching her.’

‘Is there someone here with you?’ said the voice.

‘My friend is here,’ said Marie and she glanced over at me as though she were checking that I was not a hallucination.

‘What is she doing?’

‘She’s looking after Tia with me.’

‘Right,’ said the voice, sounding a little annoyed. ‘So there is supervision with the baby while you have answered the door to us?’

‘Yes,’ said Marie. ‘Of course.’

‘We will enter now.’ The waver had gone and I saw the voice belonged to an older lady, who was wearing glasses and holding a clipboard. She peered around the flat suspiciously. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she looked wholly unthreatening, someone you would pass on the street without a double glance. Behind her were two more enforcers, both wearing a uniform I had never seen before. Young men with the sort of physical fitness that they wore conspicuously, like a badge of honour. Though one of them was much taller than the other, the similarity between them made me think they could have been brothers.

‘Who are you?’ the woman asked me.

‘I’m Kit Moss. A friend. And neighbour.’ The woman nodded at me as she made a note on her clipboard. ‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘I’m sorry?’ Her tone was almost amused.

‘I asked who you are. You haven’t introduced yourself to me, or to my friend Marie.’

‘It’s quite obvious who we are.’ She flicked the card that hung around her neck. It read OSIP in blue stark letters.

‘No, I meant, I’m Kit and this is Marie, what is your name?’

‘Unnecessary,’ she said. It was as though she had slapped me.

‘Excuse me?’ I said.

Marie brought her hand to mine and pleaded, ‘Kit, don’t.’

‘I am an enforcer of OSIP, my identity is irrelevant to this…’ she looked from the flat to Marie to Tia with barely disguised disgust – ‘situation. Now Mrs Trevers, as I am sure you are aware, you have received six IPSs in the last five months and your child is being closely monitored for extraction. As you are so close to the accepted limit, we have labelled your child as RCS, “requiring continual surveillance”. As such, you can expect these drop-in visits at any time of the day or night.’

‘A drop-in?’

‘A full sweep of your home, which my colleagues are undertaking, an examination of the subject, and an interview with an enforcer, the latter of which will commence now. Can you tell me when the baby was last fed?’

Marie looked at me, wide-eyed. Bangs and thumps came from the bedroom where the men had started their search. Marie started to speak, stumbling on her words.

‘I last fed her, her last feed was, it was…’

The enforcer started writing on her clipboard.

‘It was just when I arrived, wasn’t it, Marie? I’m always here at—’ I managed to get out before I was interrupted by a shriek.

‘This interview is for parents only. I’ll ask you to wait in the other room, Miss…’ She checked her clipboard for confirmation. ‘Miss Moss.’

For a moment I didn’t move. The enforcer called towards the other room. ‘Please escort Miss Moss into the bedroom.’

‘It’s all right, I’m going,’ I said and started to move towards the bedroom.

I heard Marie say as I walked away, ‘Midday. Her last feed was midday. She is due another in just under an hour.’

I waited in the bedroom as the two men stood by the bedroom door as though they were guarding it, me or Marie, I couldn’t work out which.

I felt suddenly very cold standing there in Marie and Leo’s bedroom. I could hear the rise and fall of voices from next door but nothing of what was being said. It went on interminably and though I wished with all my might that Marie could find